Worth
by Errie Wyvern
Summary: Fake things shouldn't get a value. Rukia hates math. And more often than not, she hates herself too.


**Worth**

Fake things shouldn't get a value. Rukia hates math. And more often than not, she hates herself too.

Rather OOC, I think. Rukia introspection. IchiRuki cuddlefluff. And a really nonsensical math problem that I pulled out of my ass.

* * *

Rukia stares at the pages in front of her. Arithmatic. She hates school, but the system of numbers attracts her. An order for everything, a reason, a value. A worth.  
  
If b is equal to m, and m is squared by 3 and then is subtracted by 49 and divided by c, how much is m worth compared to b?  
  
How much am I worth compared to him?  
  
How much, how much...  
  
'If I was to tally up everything I've done to earn a place, subracting and adding honestly, and comparing it to him, I would be nothing. So far below him that mere integers could not encompass my unworthiness.' She falls backwards, onto her wayward charge's bed.  
  
"This is pointless."  
  
"What's pointless?" Ichigo sets his tray on his nightstand, and sits down precariously close to Rukia's head. It's been hot these past few days, so Ichigo is clad in boxers and a white top. Rukia is in an old pair of Yuzu's pajamas, a little pair of shorts and a tank top.  
  
"I'm trying to find the worth of things that don't exist. Worth can only be placed upon touchable objects. Your worth, my worth, the worth of each Hollow destroyed and each spirit saved."  
  
Ichigo looks down on her, a slight impassiveness on his features. "That's stupid. Is that how Shinigami rate each other?"  
  
"By how many spirits we manage to save from becoming Hollows? Some. Others thrive on death. Destorying Hollows and eventually, they get desroyed with their obsession." She closes her eyes. "It gets disgusting."  
  
He starts fiddling with the pages of her math book. "What about you?"  
  
She brushes his hands away, letting her fingers brush against his like black butterfly wings. She taps the problem, motioning to the numerals and variables. "I'm calculating."  
  
He peers at it. "And you're calculating it wrong."  
  
She turns her head away. "I always get the wrong answer."  
  
Turning his head to the side. "I'll help you fix it."  
  
He places his hands quietly over hers, forcing her to be martyr to his work. Correcting her mistakes and erasing her greavious errors.  
  
At some point, he's moved over, settling his body over hers, his hand on top of hers, doing her homework, his head peering over hers, his arm nestled under her stomach and his long legs entangling with her own. It's almost too intimate.  
  
"I'm finished. Everything is fine now. The calculations are correct."  
  
By his hand and hers. They did it.  
  
He pulls back a little, pressing his face between her shoulder blades and wrapping both arms around her waist. Everything from her neck down is lost under his lanky frame, and the warm blanket is not unwelcome.  
  
They stay like that for a long time, his breathing evening out. Little puffs of air skirt over her arm and his fingers twitch slightly at her sides. She stretches her hand in front of her face, slowly adding up her achievements to evaluate her worth.  
  
Joined the Shinigami Academy...plus one.  
Adopted by the Kuchiki family...a plus and a minus, in their own ways. But more of a plus than anything else. Plus one.  
Joined the 13th division...plus one.  
Kaien-dono...  
  
That negated every good deed she had ever done, in instant she had committed the crime. Possessed or not, he had still been Kaien-dono. And she had...and she had...  
  
The hand in front of her face blurrs, and then closes into a fist. She isn't crying, but her eyes are impossibly bright as Ichigo raises his head and looks at her. His hand closes around her fist as he leans forward to kiss her cheek with his eyelashes.  
  
"Stop counting. We don't need it right now."  
  
She looks up at him, a wounded puppy with impossibly large blue eyes. He pecks her gently on the lips and then presses her head gently against the pillow, arranging them like they were before, only both their arms are around her stomach. He lets his weight sink them into the mattress, and she sighs.  
  
Maybe worth isn't as important as she thought it was. 


End file.
